


Down In The Valley

by alt_olive



Series: Stained Glass [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Married Life, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alt_olive/pseuds/alt_olive
Summary: A sort of anniversary fic for Stained Glass.The Griffin-Kane-Blake bunch find themselves meeting in the valley to celebrate a special birthday. They'll have to deal with new and old problems and trying their best to put them to bed. A glimpse into what life looked like after Abby and Marcus began their marriage. (There's married life fluff, I promise. But the angst came out too, as it always does.)Inspired by "Down In The Valley" by The Head and the Heart





	Down In The Valley

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This was supposed to be posted last week, but true to myself, I was late. 
> 
> I loved writing Stained Glass, and this idea popped in my head over the course of the season. So I thought why not explore and write it? I started SG a year ago, so this is also kind of an anniversary fic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I missed these characters in this world, and I really tried to start with all the fluff! But ... angst naturally ensued. Curious about your thoughts when you finish. Because this is gonna be a long one.

Verena liked pulling on her mother and hanging from her father.

When Marcus would be sitting at his desk, she’d waltz in and squeeze herself behind him until her lanky legs were around his sides and he was practically on the edge of his seat. He would get up and spin them as she held on tightly to his neck giggling. Nena thought it was funny to wrap herself around his legs and grip on as he walked from room to room pretending he didn’t notice her.

Nena was what his mother would have called a free spirit. She loved making her family laugh and told jokes that were really just statements.

_”Why did the family walk into the restaurant?” She would ask from her booster car seat._

_”Why?” They would ask, hoping that maybe this time she actually had a punchline._

_”To eat pizza!” Verena would say laughing hysterically, her head falling back, and her legs kicking up in excitement._

Her joy was contagious and they would join in on her giggles, enjoying her happiness more than the very poor joke with superb execution.

Abby looked back at her daughter, sleeping peacefully in her seat. The blur of green trees around them set the stage for a perfect road trip. Until, of course, both her husband and daughter felt the need to stop at every family owned country store on the frontage of the highway they had been on since leaving their home quite a few hours ago.

“They have character,” Marcus would justify each stop, “and I’d rather give my money to these folks than a Seven-Eleven.”

“You’ve boughten four types of jerky Marcus,” Abby rolled her eyes, as they roamed yet another country store, “ _and_ six types of fudge.”

“Fair,” Marcus grumbled as his eyes roamed over some local soda made from sugar cane.

“ _Mom_!” They heard their Verena squeal from one of the aisles, Abby momentarily freaked out, rushing to the child who had left her eyesight for a millisecond. She found Verena in front of a rack of cowboy hats. In her tiny hands, she held a white childs hat with a sparkly crown around the base.

“Please, please, please, please, please, please, ple-“ she begged clutching the hat against her chest, her eyes growing ten fold like a puppy. Nena grabbed the attention of the elderly woman behind the wooden counter, gradually making her way around to them.

“I can be a cowgirl princess!” Verena continued, now tugging at her mothers hand, “It’s all I’ve ever dreamed!” She tried to persuade them more in a whiney voice. Which both Abby and Marcus knew was only a 100th of the truth. Verena dreamed a lot of things … dinosaur wrangler, astronaut, dressmaker, president of the world … the list grew every morning she woke up.

“I’ll tell you what,” the old lady had said with a smoky voice, “you buy her that hat and I’ll give you one for yourself.”

“You can be a cowgirl queen!” Verena squealed already placing her hat on her head.

“Well mommy doesn’t want to be a cowgirl queen,” Abby smiled and then looked at the elderly lady, “no offense.”

“None taken,” she waved her hand, dismissing the words Abby had said in a fake joyful tone, “tell you what! I’ll give you her cowboy hat half off, since your husband over there seems to be buying up my whole stock of licorice.”

Abby and Verena turned to find Marcus looking at the shelves in front of him, bags of licorice in his arms.

“Marcus what are you going to do with all of that?!” Abby scolded him.

He looked up unphased, “She said if I took the licorice we get the hat half off, _dear_. Are you going to tell Nena no?”

Abby crossed her arms in front of her chest, placing weight on one leg. She rose her eyebrow at him as if asking, _You really want to go there huh?_

“I want my hat,” Nena pouted and held it firmly against her as if Abby would snatch it right off.

“Oh my god,” Abby shook her head and turned to the woman, “he’s paying,” she pointed at Marcus, “I’ll be waiting in the car. Don’t lose my daughter.”

They watched as Abby walked off, her sunglasses falling from the top of her head back to the bridge of her nose.

The country store owner turned to Marcus, “I like her.”

“You and me both,” he sighed and let the treats hit the counter, “we’ll take this and the hat, thanks.”

“Wait!” Verena yelled and ran over to be at her father’s side, “ _and this_ ,” she whispered, sliding a red Air Head candy next to the licorice. She looked out anxiously towards the front of the store. Her mother could walk through the clear sliding doors at any second.

“Please dad,” she gave him puppy dog eyes, “she’s been feeding me carrots _for hours_.”

“You like carrots,” Marcus laughed, nodding at the cashier to add the candy. “Eat it as quietly as possible, I’ll turn up the radio.”

Marcus ripped open the wrapper with his teeth and helped Verena hide the Air Head in her pocket. He opened the back door of the car and lifted Verena onto her seat. The young girl held the cowboy hat in her lap, waiting patiently for him to start the car. Abby turned from her place to make sure Verena was situated alright, then faced back towards the front window.

A minute into the drive, Marcus reached over and turned up the volume of the radio. Verena looked at him in the rearview mirror, then reached inside her pocket. The plastic crumpling in her tiny hands.

She took one bite before Abby stuck her arm back without turning, “Give me it.”

“Aw man!” Verena whined and shoved it into her mother’s hand.

Abby laughed, then ripped the candy in half, “We can share.”

Verena’s eyes sparkled when Abby handed back the smaller piece of sugar, “Beats carrots!”

Abby chewed the candy and looked at Marcus, “I can’t believe you even _tried_.”

He merged back onto the highway, then reached for her hand. Abby watched as he held it under his and then moved their intertwined fingers on top of the gear shift.

“We switch good cop, bad cop often,” he murmured, searching for his own sunglasses as they drove against the sun.

Abby opened the glove compartment with her free hand and placed the found sunglasses on his face.

“We do not,” she shook her head side to side.

“I don’t let her stay up past bedtime,” he argued switching lanes.

“We were watching _Miss Congeniality_ ,” Abby scoffed, “you don’t pass up that opportunity with your daughter. I also didn’t know they would show the second one after.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Marcus said in a sing-song voice, squeezing her hand in his.

 

* * *

 

Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a car this long. When Marcus proposed this trip almost five months ago it sounded delightful. A week in the valley, surrounded by tall dense trees spread out through acres of land. No camping, just a cabin with air conditioning and a pool. The only sign of life was a small town a couple of miles to the west.

 _It would be worth it_ , she recalled telling herself. Wrangling their three older children from their lives spread throughout the world was not an easy job anymore. Vacation days never lined up and functions couldn’t be missed. Abby and Marcus never blamed them, they were truly their own people at this point. But no matter the situation, each one of them, Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia, always carved time out for their younger sisters birthday.

This year was no different, they all set aside time to travel and meet together in the valley. Not only to celebrate the sixth birthday of a small girl. But to catch up with each other, and _that_ was exactly what was making Abby nervous when Marcus pulled up to the cozy cabin hidden down a private road.

Five months ago, she and Octavia were still talking.

The thought never lingered too long, or Abby would never get out of bed in the morning. And for better or worse, Marcus picked which times he decided to bring it up. He had no intention of locking both women in a room so they could move past this argument. But the idea was no longer crazy when he thought about the four-month silence his daughter and wife had not yet ended.

Once settled inside the three bedroom cabin, the trio decided to explore their surroundings. Verena already wanted to dive into the pool but they promised her tomorrow they would. A wired fence enclosed their backyard, Abby guessed with intentions of keeping local wildlife on the other side. On the drive in they’d spotted several deer, so she deer were the only animal life she would allow herself to think existed in those woods.

Marcus found his favorite spot pretty quickly. A hammock placed between two large trees by the small fire pit. The sun had set, and he lazily rocked himself and the two girls who had decided he needed company until the youngest was snoring softly in between them.

“I’ll put her to bed,” Marcus murmured as he tried his best not to wake Verena while he exited off. Abby leaned down to kiss the top of Nena’s forehead before Marcus snaked his arms underneath their child. He easily picked her up against his chest, and Abby never got tired of watching the careful way he always handled his daughter.

“Come back when you’re done,” Abby murmured, stretching out her body with the newly acquired room.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he chuckled, making his way towards the cabin.

“No promises,” she quipped.

Night had taken over, and the bright stars began to peek through the tops of the trees. It was a warm spring night, with the sound of wind traveling through each branch of leaves. The pool lights, on a timer, clicked off. Leaving Abby alone with the moon shining down in soft fluorescent streams.

Six years and about nine months tomorrow since the start of all this. Since the night they met. That strip from the photo booth was framed in their bedroom now. Next to the photos of their wedding day, literally taken on Octavia’s phone. Abby couldn’t believe the path her life traveled after Jake.

“You awake?” Marcus whispered as he walked over to her laying form.

“Mhm,” Abby smiled, moving over to make room for him on the hammock.

He climbed on ungracefully, placing a hand beneath his head, and wrapping his other arm around Abby. She slowly rolled herself onto her side, slightly laying on top of him, resting her face on his chest. Abby listened to the sturdy thump of his heart against her ear.

“Come here,” he told her, as his fingers toyed with the strip of skin between the hem of her shirt and her jeans.

Languidly, Abby tilted her head towards him, meeting his awaiting lips. She felt his hand cup the back of her head as she swung her leg around, until she wrapped around his waist. Marcus pulled her body further down, flush against his. Her hips began to roll against his when he broke for air.

“We’re outside,” he murmured as she left a trail of kisses down the side of his jaw.

“Obviously,” Abby replied against his throat.

“This is not a sturdy contraption.”

“I think it can handle it.”

“I don’t,” Marcus growled before he reached for Abby’s face, roughly bringing her lips back to his at once.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Abby had a clear view of the hammock that needed to be re-knotted in some parts around tree trunks. She hid the laugh falling from her lips into her pillow.

“I told you,” Marcus murmured behind her, pulling her back against his chest.

“Poor animals,” Abby commented, humor in her voice.

“They got their money’s worth,” he joked, watching her shoulders shake with laughter and smiling at the feeling.

Abby turned in his arms then, enjoying the early morning before the house would be filled with noise and conversation.

“She’s six years old,” Abby toyed with his fingers, “another year, just like that.”

When she looked up, Abby saw it flash across his eyes the moment the memory infiltrated his thoughts. They don’t talk about Verena’s previous birthday. It had tested them unexpectedly, and Abby had said things she could never take back.

Marcus didn’t blame her, even if the words had cut further than anything she had ever told him.

The circumstance that had occurred was one that allowed for loose cannon mouths and untempered emotions. It lit a fire in Abby that Marcus had never witnessed. Similarly, it uncovered a fear in Marcus that Abby thought he had conquered.

Today was Verena’s birthday, and Abby needed him to be _present._ Not in a moment that happened over a year ago. But Marcus was terrible at forgiving himself.

Abby lifted her finger to trace over the small knot in the middle of his eyebrows. She roamed down the edge of his nose, landing on his bottom lip. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his and she could not be convinced that _anything else_ was occupying his mind. When Abby sighed, unsure and unprepared with the words he needed to hear, Marcus instantly regretted taking her with him to that memory.

He didn’t need her sympathy, and quite frankly he didn’t want it. Nothing could change those terrible days. The only power Abby and Marcus held was the way they chose to respect each other in the aftermath.

“Don’t,” Marcus whispered roughly when he saw Abby open her mouth, surely some words of reassurance at the tip of her tongue.

“It wasn’t-” she begun anyway.

“I said don’t,” his words strained against the back of his throat.

Marcus threw the bedsheets off him, stripping himself of his clothes on the way to the bathroom. Abby moved to follow him, but her fingers froze against the quilted sheets when he closed the door with a soft thud. She heard the quiet click of the lock, sourly reminded that there were parts of Marcus she couldn’t fix.

 

* * *

 

_One Year Ago_

Verena was tucked into Marcus’s side as they watched reruns of Scooby Doo on the Boomerang channel. Her eyes were barely open, burning with each blink, and her face flushed a dark rose. She would sip her water each time her father lifted the cup up to her lips, but not by her own will. Her hands were too busy clutching her bunny.

The stuffed animal had once been plush and healthy. Now its ears flopped down heavily. Its neck had no cushion because that was the place Verena gripped the most. Its arms and legs dangled like limbs that no longer worked. Her bunny was in sad shape, but it brought her utmost comfort to always have it at her side.

“Her temperature was at 99 this morning,” Marcus told Abby over the phone. He bent his head while he brushed strands of hair away from Nena’s forehead, “are you sure I shouldn’t take her to the doctor?”

“Did you crush up the ibuprofen and give it to her already?” Abby asked as she finished packing her things into her carry-on. Her conference had ended that morning, and she was due for a flight late that afternoon.

“Yes,” Marcus answered her, “she’s not being fussy, she just looks … miserable.”

Marcus couldn’t remember a time Octavia had been unwell to this degree. He was sure there had to have been a stomach flu, sore throat, or a cough. One that she surely made her stay home from school. But a fever?

“Her body is fighting the infection and trying to stabilize her temperature,” Abby explained as she zipped up the last compartment in her luggage. “Make sure she keeps drinking water. Actually,” she paused running a hand down her face, “switch between a glass of water and some Pedialyte. She likes-”

“The strawberry lemonade flavor,” Marcus finished her sentence, “I’ll make sure we have some.”

“Take her temperature every hour to make sure it doesn’t continue to rise,” Abby instructed clearly, “and give her another ibuprofen in six hours.”

Marcus took mental notes of the time and couldn’t help himself as he said, “You know you being assertive is really doing something to me right now.”

Abby rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the snort that flew from her mouth, “Our child has a fever and you are getting turned on by my medical knowledge?” Her head shook with disapproval, “You are ridiculous.”

“I like when you play doctor,” Marcus shrugged.

“I know you do,” Abby whispered.

“Get home already,” Marcus spoke lowly into the phone, “I miss you.”

Abby could hear the need in his voice. She’d been gone almost a week. “I miss you too,” she repeated sitting on the edge of her hotel bed.

“When you’re here I’ll make sure you know just how much I missed you.”

Abby felt the butterflies in her stomach that never failed to surprise her when he talked to her like this. They sat miles away from each other, but if she closed her eyes she could feel him beside her.

“I believe you,” she groaned, “now repeat back to me what I told you about taking care of Nena.”

Abby listened as he recited her instructions word for word. Minutes later she reluctantly hung up the phone to meet her Lyft downstairs. She hated being away from Verena while she was battling a fever. Abby was a doctor for crying out loud, when her daughter needed her knowledge the most she was miles away. But Verena had caught the fever immediately after she had left.

The plane ride could not have gone by slower. They had taxied for almost thirty minutes until their pilot was given the go ahead. As she rolled past the sleepy passengers from her flight, Abby was thankful she didn’t have to wait at baggage claim. She had tipped the driver and lugged her suitcase up the few steps to their remodeled Victorian townhouse.

The only light to guide her upstairs was that of the kitchen. Marcus had probably been refilling Nena’s cup for hours now. Abby quietly made her way to Verena’s room.

She exhaled a large sigh of relief at the vision of her daughter peacefully asleep on her bed. Her stuffed bunny had fallen off the edge, so Abby walked over and picked up the beloved animal, and tucked it back where it belonged. But Abby’s hands had immediately felt the heat radiating from Verena’s small body.

She instinctively placed her hand on top of her daughters head to find it profusely sweating, burning her skin. Abby pulled back the covers and found Verena lying in a pool of her own sweat. The thin sheets underneath her were drenched, outlining her small frame.

“Honey,” she called her daughter to wake, but Verena made no sound. Abby gripped her daughters' cheeks with one hand softly shaking her, “Nena wake up.”

This time she moaned barely above a decibel.

“Nena wake up!” Abby tried to rouse her once more, but Verena barely lifted a finger. Abby watched her childs eyelids flutter under the translucent skin, as Verena attempted to rise out of a slumber.

“Marcus!” Abby cried and even when she heard the thump of his feet hit the floor she couldn’t help as another call flew from her lips, “Marcus, hurry!”

He had fallen asleep with his Kindle atop his stomach, and his glasses perched on his nose. Nena’s temperature had stayed at 99 all day and he had double checked right before she requested to sleep. Marcus had planned on checking her temperature after he finished his chapter, but he couldn’t remember the last sentence he had read before sleep overcame him.

When he heard Abby’s blood-curdling cry penetrate his ears he knew something had gone wrong. Marcus’s stomach dropped at the sound of her repeated yell for him. His face drained of all color at the sight of Abby pulling Verena up against her chest. His daughters' limbs, that usually clung to her parents' bones, were dangling like they were barely attached with a thin string.

“Nena?” Marcus heard himself ask without feeling it echo in his mouth. Without feeling like he had control over his voice.

“She’s at 104,” Abby said out loud, mostly to herself. Marcus noticed that she had kept the thermometer underneath Verenas armpit while she clutched her against her body.

“We need to get her to the children’s hospital now,” he watched his wife turn on her heel.

Marcus knew Abby was trying hard to keep her voice even, calm, and collected. But there was a shakiness that Abby couldn’t thoroughly flush from her system as she directed him, “Grab a washcloth from the bathroom and dunk it under cool water. Not cold. Marcus did you hear me? Cool water. If it’s cold it will trick her body into raising her temperature and we don’t want that. Marcus?”

Marcus felt out of body when he sprinted to the half bathroom. Even with blood pounding against his eardrum he didn’t miss the, “ _Fuck_ ,” Abby had whined under her breath when he turned the corner.

It wasn’t a curse word out of anger. It was a curse word out of fear.

Marcus would never forget the way it felt when his wife, a former Chief of Surgery, was genuinely scared for the health of their youngest daughter.

Marcus was sure he doused the memory foam rug with water as he squeezed out the excess liquid running away from the bathroom counter. When he laid eyes on Abby next, he found her orbs wet and rimmed with tears she was not allowing to fall.

Abby swiped the cloth from his hand the second he was in close enough distance and turned to the entryway of their home. Marcus didn’t need instructions for how to shove pajama pants through his legs and slip tennis shoes on his feet without socks. He didn’t need directions to grab the car keys from the kitchen and slide into the driver's seat of their car. Marcus pulled out of the curbside with a loud screech and sped through the first intersection where their house resided.

Abby held Verena in her arms, stroking the wet cloth over her forehead, bare arms, and exposed neck. Abby’s throat ached to let out a sob. Rogue tears slipped through her lips and coated her tongue with the taste of salt.

In the dead of night Abby couldn’t help as she accused, “You told me she was at 99.”

Marcus lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. Her fiery eyes pierced through him. He was certain that the shade of brown, so dark it was almost black, was a color he had never seen her irises glow before. Marcus had never seen her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare with such intensity. He couldn’t handle the way Abby looked at him with … betrayal.

Marcus took a hard right, focusing back on the narrow streets. He opened his mouth to explain, “She was-“

“She’s barely responsive Marcus!” Abby cut him off sourly, “If her temperature doesn’t lower,” Abby’s voice faded.

“What?” Marcus asked harshly, his expression a mix of anger, fear, and guilt. “If her temperature doesn’t lower what?!”

Abby clenched her jaw, unable to say the words out loud. She looked down at Verena, whose rosy cheeks contrasted harshly against her paling skin. There was no way she would allow the infection to spread to critical levels. If God wanted her daughter, he’d have to pry her from Abby’s iron grip.

“Just get us to the damn hospital,” Abby snapped.

Within minutes Marcus pulled the vehicle up to the emergency room, and Abby shoved the car door open milliseconds before he came to a complete halt. Verena groaned and shifted in her mothers arms as the fluorescent lights struck her. When they fluttered open a slim crack, Abby noticed her dilated pupils immediately.

“Hey pumpkin,” Abby smiled down at her, trying not to let her face break.

“You’re home mamas,” Verena murmured and Abby noticed her tiny fingers twitch. She wanted to touch her mother’s wet cheeks. Verena wanted to welcome her back.

Abby saw her tears hit Verena’s forehead, “Yes,” she nodded and shut her eyes for a moment, unable to gather herself. “I’m here baby,” Abby told her strongly, “I’m right here.”

Her lips found the top of Nena’s head before she felt them take her away. Against all the protocol she ever knew, she had tried to clutch her daughter back into her. But nurses pleaded for her to let go, pushing her arms down, and unclenching her fingers from Verena’s body.

Abby had planned to get off that car and direct orders like the acclaimed physician she had once been. _She needs antibiotics! And a fluid transfer! Get her on an IV now!_ But those words had not slipped from her dry mouth, they hadn’t even crossed her mind until she saw them whisk Nena behind the double doors of which they were not allowed.

Marcus saw the exact moment his wife realized she was not in the position of power. After he had disclosed every detail of Verena’s sudden condition, and the nurses began pulling his daughter away from Abby’s grip, and the heavy hospital doors denied their access right before their eyes, _he saw it._ The way Abby inched forward before she recoiled. Abby understood that she could no longer lead, or hell even follow, the staff behind _those doors._

Marcus had found himself bitterly chuckling. Because they were exactly that. _Just doors_. And what a funny thing to think they held all the power to keep them away. But if he sprinted through those doors, and tracked the heels of every human attending to his daughter, they would have a harder time stabilizing her.

Saving her.

So, he pulled Abby back against his chest, and dug his face into the crook of her shoulder. Abby believed he was trying to stop her from doing anything drastic. Abby believed he was attempting to calm her. And if you asked Marcus, he would have said the need to protect the woman he loved was instinctual. He wanted to be the husband that comforted her when she felt helpless.

But at that moment, Marcus wasn’t the rock in Abby’s story. No, he used Abby as a barrier. With Abby in front of him, with Abby in his arms, he would not kick down _those doors_. Because through the fury of Abby’s arrival to his explanation to the nurses, Marcus had not gotten the chance to say _anything_ to his daughter. He had not gotten the chance to _comfort her_ , to _touch her_ , to say _he loved her_.

Marcus did not get the chance to say _he was sorry_ that he had fallen asleep.

“Her bunny,” Abby had suddenly whispered, “where’s her bunny? She had it with her.”

Marcus watched her wiggle out of his embrace. Popping the safe bubble he created for them only moments ago. Abby’s eyes frantically searched the floor around them.

“Abby it’s not here,” Marcus told her when she began retracing their steps, heading out the exit.

“You don’t know that,” Abby fought back, as the automatic doors opened before her. She had left the back door to their car ajar and could see the shadow of Verena’s booster seat. Abby crawled onto the cool leather, searching through the dark for any sign of the tiny brown bunny.

“It’s at home,” Marcus repeated. He reached for her waist, in hopes his light touch would persuade her to get out of the car.

“No it’s not.”

“Abby-”

“She wasn’t in your arms Marcus,” Abby stuck her hand inside the different compartments, even though there was no way the bunny could have ended up in those cracks. “You didn’t see her. You didn’t notice that she was four degrees above a fucking hundred. You didn’t find her in a pool of her own sweat.”

Marcus withdrew his hand from the small of her back. But that didn’t stop Abby from finishing her attack, “ _You didn’t listen to me._ ”

Abby turned then to get out of the car, but Marcus had put one hand on either side of the door frame, entrapping her. He felt his pulse in the tips of his fingers as they pressed roughly against the hard metal.

“I did-” Marcus tried to explain again.

“How could you possibly-”

Abby stops when she hears the loud slam of Marcus’s palm against the roof of the car.

“Are you going to let me talk or are you going to continue cutting me off before I get more than two words out of my mouth?!” Marcus hissed violently.

Abby’s eyes widened and her lips turned into a fine line. Marcus almost didn’t want to explain to her. He didn’t want to defend himself. He shouldn’t have to. _This wasn’t my fault_ , he thought. _There was nothing I could have done._

Verena had been asleep three hours. He fell asleep for three hours. Just three hours.

 _What would have happened if I checked her temperature when I finished my chapter?_ _Would it have been at 101? 102? How quickly could it have spiked? Was it really my fault?_ Marcus’s conscious spiraled. _I was supposed to be there._

“I should have been the one to notice. Not you,” Marcus began. It wasn’t what he expected to come out of his mouth. An apology. Although Abby visibly relaxed, she was still on the defense as he continued, “It was my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Marcus,” she told him.

Marcus selfishly craved her forgiveness, and he wanted her validation that their daughter’s condition was not to be blamed on him. So in a twisted fashion, he leaned into her, hoping her touch would find his face like it always did in these situations. But Abby spoke again, “It won’t do us any good right now.”

Marcus’s breath stopped short.

Because that’s the thing with apologies that mean something to us. The only thing worse than someone denying them, is someone telling you they don’t matter. Someone telling you their worth is irrelevant.

They had been in this dance before. They had learned the necessity of a _pause_. When they got in arguments every so often and it felt like the room was at a boiling degree. One of them would _stop_ and walk away.

However, Marcus couldn’t help the venom-laced tone that slid through his lips when he said, “Get out of the car.”

Abby had seen his jaw set and his eyes still. In one motion he stepped away from her. Marcus looked to his left and then to his right. He looked anywhere but back at her. Abby’s toes touched the floor, and when she stood, Marcus took another step backward. He feared her body sliding against him as she exited the vehicle.

When she was a safe enough distance from the car, Marcus took the back door and slammed it shut. Without a word, he walked over to the drivers' side and climbed in. Abby immediately opened the passenger door, and he pinched himself for not locking it the moment he could.

“Where are you going?” She asked and put one foot on the frame of the car, but did not step in fully.

“Get out of the car Abby,” Marcus told her sternly as he stuck the keys in the ignition.

“Our daughter is in the ER and you’re leaving? What the hell-”

“I said get out,” Marcus pleaded, his forehead finding the top of the steering wheel. He clutched the smooth leather so tightly his knuckles were white.

Abby understood what she had done now. When some of the fog lifted from her head and she noted the tense way his body curled into itself. This happened when he was trying hard not to let his temper get the best of him. When he was trying not to raise his voice.

“When will you be back?” Abby whispered.

Marcus lifted his head, keeping his eyes on the window before him, “You call me if anything goes wrong, I will turn back around as soon as I see your name.”

“I-” Abby gulped, “I don’t understand.”

They stayed there, in silence, for five long seconds. Then Marcus reached over and clutched the door handle with his right hand. Abby looked down at his flexed forearm.

A part of her knew if she tried hard enough, he would give up and go back inside. But the vision of weight that burdened his shoulders told her she should let him go. _He will be back_ , she told herself before slowly stepping away from the car. Abby tried not to jump when he swung the door shut and drove off.

 

* * *

 

 

One hour, seven minutes, and thirteen seconds.

One hour of Abby pacing in the waiting room.

One hour of Abby stopping every nurse for more information on Nena.

One hour of Abby’s right leg shaking impatiently when she finally decided to take a seat.

One hour of Abby checking her phone for his name.

Seven minutes of reflection.

Seven minutes of replaying him driving off in her head.

Seven minutes of hell.

Seven minutes of ending patience.

Abby stood up and dialed his phone number.

Thirteen final seconds of silence.

“Come back,” Abby croaked the moment she heard the familiar click of him picking up, “They haven’t told me anything, but I need you here.”

Her fingers clutched her phone tightly, every nerve in her body was on fire.

“Turn around,” she heard him say in a low tone.

Abby’s head whipped to the entrance of the emergency room to find him staring straight at her. Their eyes met across the small blinding space, and each worried wrinkle and sunken feature on their face was illuminated. His hair was a mess, and Abby was sure he had run his hands through it in hopes of fighting off every emotion he had been feeling. Marcus’s gaze fell to the hand at his side and he lifted his wrist to show her what he had left for.

In his hand was Verena’s beaten bunny.

Abby pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and wrapped her arms around herself. _Of course he went back for the bunny,_ Abby thought. She felt like a monster.

Her head fell and she clenched her eyes until all she could see was a buzz of black and yellow. When she felt his warmth in front of her, Abby only held herself tighter, afraid of what she would see when her eyes opened. She felt like she didn’t deserve such easy forgiveness when only an hour ago his own apology was dismissed.

Marcus’s hands had drifted to her elbows, burning her cold skin.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

Abby felt the soft ears of Nena’s bunny against her arm.

“I can’t stop,” she told him softly.

It was different when Marcus gently wrapped his arms around her. His embrace built like a crescendo. Usually, when Abby fell into his arms, she fell hard. She would clutch him like he was the oxygen she needed to survive. Her arms would wrap around his neck, her face would dive into his shoulder, and her fingers would thread in his hair. She would pull him against her until she felt _safe_.

But this time Marcus tentatively drew his hands up the arms she used to hold herself together. He felt her tremble against his skin when he leaned down to curl around her shoulders. Slowly he reeled Abby into a hug that grew tighter with every glacial second.

The world around them stopped, and eventually so did her shaking.

Abby let her arms unfold and make their way over his chest and across his waist. Her left hand drifted up and down his side until she felt something in Marcus’s pocket. With her face still against his chest, she traced the object, making it out into a small box.

Marcus withdrew himself from Abby as she looked up at him and reached into his pocket. He trained his eyes on hers, and they stayed staring at each other as Abby pulled out the item without hurry. She had known what it was since the moment her fingers outlined its edges.

Abby never broke eye contact when she gripped the small box in her hand and pressed it into the space between his lungs. Without a single blink, Abby asked, “Did you?”

Marcus stared firmly into her wet irises, “No.”

They stood still for a moment, breaths barely above a whisper. Abby finally allowed herself to look down at the object between them. The clear wrapping had been torn off. Marcus was uncertain of what she would do next.

Abby opened the small box and found not a single cigarette missing. With steady fingers, she plucked one from the top left corner, flipped it around, and put it exactly in the same place she had picked it from.

Marcus felt a thin blade shoot through his heart. The memory of that night being reawakened. They had come a long way.

“For luck,” Abby croaked and slid the cigarette box back into his pocket. When Abby lifted her chin, Marcus didn’t expect to see a small smirk on her lips, “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

Marcus let his forehead meet hers and the second he closed his eyes, words fumbled from his dry mouth.

“Everything in my life, but you, has been luck. You were fate.”

Abby smiled, “Don’t get cheesy on me now Marcus Kane.”

“Don’t tempt me, Abigail Kane.”

 

* * *

 

Marcus had called Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia while he was gone. Earlier that week the kids, now adults, had canceled plans to visit Abby, Marcus, and Verena for her birthday because she fell ill. Now, they all regretted being away while their baby sister was being treated.

Abby and Marcus sat in that waiting room for another grueling thirty minutes, until a nurse called their name from the double doors.

They were able to stabilize Verena’s temperature, but she would spend the next two days in a hospital room, including her birthday. Verena didn’t complain when her father filled the room with human-sized animal balloons, and Abby tried her best not to question every other thing that flew from the medical staff’s mouth. Together, the three of them spent the day watching _The Land Before Time_ and _The Good Dinosaur_.

Even when Verena stuffed her face with the hospitals’ jello, Marcus never truly forgave himself for falling asleep that night. In his mind, they should have been in a place where the sun was shining in her face. They should have been eating cake and opening all the gifts from her brother and sisters.

This was the reason Marcus disguised Verena’s next birthday as a big family trip. He felt like he needed redemption. He didn’t want to get being a father to a young girl wrong again.

Abby chided herself for not realizing _that_ until the moment he looked in her eyes on the morning of Verena’s sixth birthday.

 

* * *

The shower turned on only moments after Marcus shut the door. Abby fought the urge to pick the lock with a credit card the way Octavia had shown her that one time they were locked out of the house. Surely Abby could wait ten minutes for him to gather his thoughts.

Marcus didn’t look at her when he exited the bathroom. Instead, he rummaged through his suitcase for clothes and walked back inside. Once again, he closed the door.

Abby sighed and pushed the blankets off of her, giving up on patience.

She felt the ends of his t-shirt roll down her bare thighs. Just when she grabbed a hold of the doorknob, the door swung open. Abby opened her mouth to say something and lifted her hands to stop him from escaping her presence again. What she wasn’t prepared for, were his lips to crash down on hers, and his arms to snake around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Abby froze momentarily before she let her body fall into him as it usually did.

“I’m okay,” he whispered when they gently pulled away, “really.”

Abby felt the droplets from his hair run down the fingers she held around his neck, “Don’t lie to me.”

Marcus let his eyes drop between them, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I know all your looks Marcus,” Abby continued softly.

“Mmmm,” Marcus hummed, “my wife … always the observant one.”

Abby gently laughed, as his hands roamed up and down the skin of her back.

“My husband,” she murmured, “always so principled.”

They stood still for a moment, allowing for feather touches to be placed on each others body. Marcus played with the elastic of Abby’s underwear. He tugged at the sides, and she knew one signal and he would slide them down. But that was too easy.

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head and teasingly pulled away, “you decided to shower _alone_.”

Marcus chuckled and reached for her, but she took another step back. Abby had a twinkle in her eye that made him chase her until she was pinned underneath him laughing. He held both hands above her head, threatening to tickle her sides if she playfully dodged his kisses again.

“I didn’t say I wanted to shower,” Marcus murmured into the crook of her neck.

“Is that so?” Abby asked in a joyous tone, “What else could possibly have you undressing me then?”

Marcus lifted his head enough, to be at noses with her, “Simple admiration.”

“ _There he is_ ,” Abby could not help as a laugh erupted from her throat, “so predictable.” But before he could find any rebuttal Abby continued, “And I love you so much for it.”

She lifted her lips to meet his. Slowly they shared the taste of his mint toothpaste. His fingers lifted the shirt over her belly, and they graced the delicate faded marks with his hands. Just as Marcus moved to take the soft cotton off of her, their door swung open with a very awake newly six-year-old.

“It’s my birthday and I want pancakes!” Verena announced clad in a unicorn onesie Clarke bought for her almost a month ago.

“ _That_ is so much more predictable,” Marcus groaned. Then he and Abby tugged her shirt back down her body.

“What are you two doing?” Verena asked curiously while she peered over the edge of the bed.

Abby and Marcus shared a look, passing information before Marcus quickly pushed himself off Abby and reached over the wooden bed frame. He picked up Verena from under her arms and pulled her on the bed with him and Abby. She squealed in delight as they squished her between them in the biggest bear hug.

“Happy birthday pumpkin,” Abby kissed Verena’s forehead over and over.

“Happy birthday baby girl,” Marcus followed suit and crushed her in his embrace.

“Too,” Verena wheezed, “much,” she wiggled from their human sandwich, “love!” she exhaled breaking free with a large breath.

They reluctantly let her escape and together all three of them sat against the headframe of the bed. Verena reached for her bunny that had been tossed in the wake of her being attacked. As she clutched the bunny against her chest and leaned into Marcus’s side, Abby wished memories lasted forever.

“Sooooo,” Verena whispered and looked up at her mom, “are you going to make my pancakes or not? I can hear daddy’s stomach growling and only you know how.”

Abby laughed then rolled her eyes, “I need to take a shower, and that’s not true Daddy knows how to make pancakes too.”

Verena pursed her lips before she lifted herself onto her knees to whisper in Abby’s ear, “But he burns them.”

“I burnt them _one_ time!” Marcus grumbled. Obviously, his daughter had not whispered quietly enough.

“Hey, no eavesdropping mister!” Verena scrunched her face and pointed her bunny at him.

“Well don’t tell mommy secrets about me-”

“Marcus,” Abby stopped him, a grin tugging at her lips. He was unbelievable sometimes.

“Okay fine,” Verena sighed and sat back down in the middle of them. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and her lips in a small pout, “I just like mommy’s pancakes better,” she shrugged.

“So much worse than secrets,” Marcus muttered under his breath, his head falling back in exasperation.

Abby kissed Verena’s forehead one more time before she jumped off the bed, and lifted her hands up to her ears signaling him. Marcus curled Verena into his arms and covered her tiny ears with his hands.

“Wait until she’s fourteen and hates my guts. I’m sure she’ll favor you then,” Abby laughed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she favors us both equally.”

“I can’t hear anything!” Verena groaned, attempting to move her fathers' hands.

“Then go make her pancakes and see if she eats them,” Abby tossed over her shoulder with a playful smile, knowing he was right but still loving to tease him.

When the door to the bathroom closed Marcus moved his hands away from Verena’s ears, “Mommy said she’ll make you pancakes when she’s done showering.”

Verena rubbed her ears dramatically, as if she’d been wearing tight headphones for decades. Then she reaches forward and pats Marcus’s knee, “It’s okay dad, you make better spaghetti.”

“Can you say that when she gets out?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Then she won’t make my pancakes, duh!” Verena shook both her hands in front of her as if it was the simplest explanation in the world.

The funniest part of their exchange was that Marcus understood just how well his daughter knew her _mother_. He knew that they were discovering _this_ Abby together. The Abby who had to deal with drop-off times, and teaching sharing, and thinking about tying shoes before exciting cars.

Marcus learned a lot of things being married to Abby. About her. About himself. About their relationship. And he never really stopped noticing things because people aren’t stagnant creatures. Their thoughts, passions, favorites, dislikes, values, and desires change with time.

If you asked him when Abby stopped drinking whole milk he would tell you mid-October when she reached inside one of the grocery store fridges and pulled out 2% instead. He remembered because there was orange filled Oreos in the cart, and he had asked, “Why are you grabbing 2%?” Abby had looked up at him, dropped the jug in the cart, shrugged, and started down the next aisle.

On a date night, she requested stuffed mushrooms instead of arancini and Marcus couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow surprised. She shrugged. Abby hated mushrooms. She had once said it was a texture thing and he never questioned her again.

Marcus quickly noted that the _shrug_ was the biggest giveaway for small changes of personality.

“We should redo the wallpaper in the guest room.”

“Why?”

 _Shrug_.

She had been the one to choose it in the first place.

“Your hair’s getting long.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it.”

 _Shrug_.

Marcus cut his hair the next day.

In Abby’s defense, with greater issues, she had more justification than a shrug. But Marcus was so in tune with her, that each shrug came with an unsaid reason.

_You know my stomach has been getting irritated when I drink whole milk now._

_Octavia talked me into it, and I loved them. But I know you’ve been trying to get me to try mushrooms for years._

_I have no classes during summer and need a project because I’m not used to having time off._

_I don’t like it._

Marcus knew all these things, because he loved the woman he called his wife. And he would continue to love Abby regardless of time, or the food she ate, or the refusal of using eye contacts, or what perfume she chose to wear, or the roads she took to work, or the songs she sang when she thought he wasn’t nearby.

During Abby’s pregnancy, Verena had a knack for being awake when Abby wanted to be asleep. Most times in the middle of the night. But even when Abby would lay down for a nap, Verena would toss and turn in her belly.

Marcus would stay up with her, and they’d watch whatever film was on television late at night. Abby would grab and move his hand around her stomach, showing him where Nena had shifted next. Marcus would never say, and Abby would always know, that the feeling of his unborn child beneath his palm was all that mattered on his wife’s sleepless nights. He would stay up for days to feel the wonder of Verena’s kicks.

But on nights where Abby knew he had to be up in the morning to meet with a client, she refused to let him watch dusk turn to dawn. Abby would leave the bedroom and venture to his office downstairs. She would turn on his desktop, sit in his large leather rolling chair, and google songs.

Then she would play one on low volume, resting her hands atop her stomach as she relaxed, and sang along softly. She sometimes left the door open a crack, which is when Marcus waited a few minutes and then followed her downstairs. He would lean against the wall outside his office, and guess what song she would pick that night.

That was almost seven years ago. Now, that small kick was a living human who could eat chicken nuggets the rest of her life and never complain. He wondered if Verena would remember any of the small things her mother did for her.

“If I had a superpower,” Verena whispered, “I’d want to read minds.”

Marcus was suddenly brought back to the quiet aura of the room. He looked down at the birthday girl, his eyebrow raising, trying to keep his composure at her serious face. Where had this come from? What was going on inside her head?

“Mom said she’d freeze time,” Verena continues a small yawn escaping her, a realization that it was too early for her to be up, “What would you do daddy?”

Marcus smiles down at his daughter, “I’d want to share memories-”

“Like Dumbledore?!” Verena gets excited.

“Yes! Like that,” he hugged her tighter, “I guess our superpowers are similar.”

“No. You have that superpower already,” Verena rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asks.

“You can share memories by talking dad.”

Marcus felt schooled. I guess it was a superpower to tell memories _well_.

“You’re absolutely right Nena.”

And she smirked proud of herself, clutching her bunny tighter. When Nena did _that_ smirk, it reminded him of Abby. Those were Abby’s fine lips that turned up at the sides and her sparkling eyes. Sometimes he wondered what mannerisms she got from him at all. But Abby would argue much more than he thought.

For instance, when Verena was thinking way too hard about something, she would lift her hand to her chin, and place her fingers on her lips. Given she would say, “Ummmmmmmmmm.” But same difference.

“You know,” Marcus started, and he pulled the blanket up higher on Verena’s body, tucking it in tighter, “Mamas used to be a talented surgeon. Even now, if you handed her a scalpel I’m sure she would succeed.”

“What’s a scalpel?” Verena rose her eyebrow.

Marcus pinched himself, “She’ll explain later.”

Abby was definitely going to kill him when this popped up at the wrong time in the future. But Verena let it go as he continued, “It was one of the reasons I fell in love with her. You know that I love mommy very much right?”

“Duh,” Verena sighed, using the phrase again, and he noted that now the FaceTime calls with Octavia would definitely have to be monitored.

“Your mom is _so_ beautiful.” Marcus leaned down so his and Nena’s foreheads met, “Just like you.”

Verena nodded, looking up at him. The shape of her eyes and all they held … were Marcus.

“I’ve always found your mom beautiful,” Marcus continued in a soft voice, “since the moment I laid my eyes on her. But do you want to know something top secret?”

“Sure,” Verena smiled and snuggled closer to her father’s side. Marcus had not heard the soft click of the bathroom door slowly crack open. His focus had been on the small human clinging onto him.

Abby halted her hand around the doorknob, the moment she heard Marcus say the word ‘secret’. What a popular theme of today. Slowly, she had let the towel she was drying her hair with slip onto the counter. She peeked through the slit in the doorway and found Marcus mindlessly playing with Verena’s small hands in his larger ones. Verena looked incredibly distracting in the pink onesie with sparkles in every stitching, and yet it did not phase Marcus one bit.

“Your mother will disagree,” Marcus began and Abby already leaned in closer to the small crack, curious to a fault, “but I thought she was the most beautiful when she was carrying you.”

“You mean when I was a baby in mommy’s tummy?” Verena asked for clarification … as always.

“Yes,” Marcus answered her with a brief chuckle escaping his lips. Abby leaned against the wall, careful not to draw any attention to the bathroom. He had never told her any of this. It wasn’t like she didn’t think he found her beautiful, because her husband did tell her _that_. But this was different. What he was disclosing to their daughter was something maybe he had been too shy to say when she was complaining about her swollen feet and dry skin, even though she was moisturizing in the morning and at night.

“Your mom did a lot of funny stuff while you were in her belly,” Marcus said, “do you remember?”

Verena looked up at him like he was crazy, “No! I was in her tummy how could I remember?”

Abby covered her giggle with her hand, and Marcus acted shocked.

“Well then good thing I have superpower,” he teased her, before pulling her onto his lap. Abby watched as he brushed the strands of her wavy goldish brown hair away from their daughters' porcelain face. “You know how you love to dance?”

“ _I love it_ ,” Verena’s eyes grew.

“Well she did too, and she danced and sang _a lot_. The dancing was funny because it was like she was carrying a basketball in front of her,” and Marcus had to stop mid-story, his memory overcoming him and his laughter falling from his lips. Abby tried hard not to swing the door open and get mad at him. Yes her dancing had turned slightly awkward when she was seven months pregnant. But she was _seven months pregnant_ , any kind of movement was awkward.

Marcus continued, “But she did that for you. Even when her feet were a little swollen, you would move and kick when you heard the music. Then she would come and grab my hands so I could feel you.”

Abby did remember that. It made him so happy to feel his daughter kick.

“One time she even wore two different shoes to work and didn’t notice until she came home.”

“Mommy’s so silly,” Verena giggled.

“You want to know one of the biggest things she did for you?” Marcus whispered dramatically.

“What?” Verena turned to him, her bunny under one of her arms.

Abby held her breath, there were so many places this could go.

Then.

“ _She gave up coffee_ ,” Marcus told her.

“No!” Verena lifted her small hands to cover her mouth. Abby let her forehead hit the wall in front of her, her shoulders shook from silent laughter.

“ _For nine months!_ ”

“But mamas loves coffee,” Verena rose her hands above her head confused, “she drinks it every day!”

“Mhm she was not very nice at the beginning, but she got better,” Marcus shrugged.

Abby wanted to say he was lying, but he wasn’t. A life without caffeine sucked. But her daughter was worth every minute without it.

“My favorite, _favorite_ , story of you in your mom’s belly, was the first time we went to the beach at home.”

Abby remembered that day well. She had barely been six weeks, and they ventured on foot to the coast. It was a cool day, but not cold enough to stay away from the water as it rose to their ankles with every wave.

“She didn’t want to admit that she was scared.”

Abby felt her eyes close, knowing exactly where this memory was going.

“Scared of what?” Verena whispered.

Marcus took a moment before replying, “Scared of losing you early.”

A silence fell over the room.

“She wouldn’t talk about it.”

It was true. Abby knew every single thing that could go wrong with her pregnancy, and she never talked about what could happen out loud. She didn’t want to manifest it herself.

“But you know it wasn’t just me and mommy on the beach that day,” Marcus continued, “Octavia was there too.”

Abby felt her throat tighten. She lifted her head to find that Marcus had been looking at her through the small crack between the door and frame. When their eyes met it was impossible for Abby to look away.

“She knew mommy was scared. But she also knew mommy was strong. That day Octavia bought your mother a bracelet to wrap around her ankle. With that bracelet, she promised mommy that nothing would happen to you.” Marcus let his fingers fall to Verena’s sides, “Octavia loved and helped mamas a lot when she was pregnant with you.”

“‘Tavia’s a good big sister,” Verena told him gently.

Marcus hugged Verena a little closer in his arms, “She is.”

Abby looked down at his final words and opened the bathroom door.

“Come on Nena,” she smiled walking over to help the little girl off her father’s lap, “let’s make you those special birthday pancakes before everyone gets here.”

Verena pushed herself off her father’s lap and jumped onto the floor. She grabbed her mothers hand as they made their way to the kitchen, “You can make your coffee first mamas.”

Marcus let his head fall back against the headboard with a chuckle. They needed to stop treating their child like a tiny adult.

 

* * *

 

The morning flew by, and Verena’s early awakening hit her at a quarter to eleven. She asked to nap, and Abby couldn’t tell the young girl no on her birthday. So she placed the child in the bedroom she would share with her sisters when they arrived.

From Marcus’s phone calls, Abby knew Bellamy was arriving later in the afternoon. But the two older girls were only going to be an hour or so apart. Selfishly, Abby hoped Clarke would arrive before Octavia. Then someone could help diffuse the tension built over four months of silence, now being housed in a single room.

“Octavia should be getting here in the next ten,” Marcus informed her as he walked back into the kitchen.

Abby barely looked up from cutting the fruit that would be Verena’s snack later on. She gave him one small nod, before returning back to the organic strawberries. Marcus watched as she began slicing with more force, and he feared she’d cut her finger in whatever quiet rage she was fighting internally.

“We’ll all be together for these few days,” Marcus murmured, as Abby’s throat visibly got tighter, “let’s try not to focus on-“

“Don’t worry Marcus I won’t,” Abby set down her knife haphazardly, “but _you_ tell _her_ that.”

Abby lifted the cutting board and roughly slid the fruit into the Tupperware. Marcus exhaled a breath he’d been holding since his first mention of Octavia. What a fickle situation Marcus had been mixed in for the past few months.

It was easier to play dad and bad cop when _he_ was the one his children were mad at. It was easier to mediate when his children were fighting with one another. What wasn’t easy was playing Switzerland to his daughter and his wife. Because they both despised him for it.

“I was worried too love, you know that,” Marcus began softly, trying to reason with Abby once again. However, she ignored him, turning to put the Tupperware in the fridge. So Marcus continued, “She’s doing okay … you know?”

“No,” Abby growled facing the open refrigerator, “ _I don’t know_. Because she hasn’t talked to me in months. I am also not having this ‘ _I was worried too’_ conversation right now. We all know what role you decided to play in the end Marcus.”

With that Abby slammed the cold metal door and walked off to their bedroom. She quietly clicked their door closed and sank back against the hardwood.

It made her angry to talk about her and Octavia’s ongoing silence. It also made her incredibly sad. Abby tried to control her breathing, clenching her jaw to stop from screaming in frustration. It was harder than it looked, especially when she heard a knock come from the entrance of the cabin.

Abby listened as Marcus took a moment too long before walking over to the foyer. Then clear as day she heard the voice which had refused to speak to her on any form of communication.

“Dad!” Octavia cheered.

Abby clutched the doorknob under her palm, squeezing the bronze material and feeling her pulse at her fingertips. All she had to do was turn the knob, and make her way down the short hallway. But Abby feared the loss of her daughters' voice, so she waited a little longer.

“Missed you,” Abby heard Marcus strangle out, she guessed they were hugging each other tightly after being away so long. She wondered if she would get an embrace of some kind.

“Missed you too,” Octavia responded a bit out of breath, probably finally being released from her fathers' arms.

Then just as Abby was about to open the door she stopped at their muffled words, not quiet enough to stay in the living room.

“She cares about you Octavia-“

“I thought so-“

“You know Clarke and Bellamy didn’t take this-“

“I don’t care what they did-“

“She just wants what’s best for you.”

“But so do you.”

“I-“ she hears Marcus begin but his voice softly fades off, unable to complete his sentence. Then Abby hears him lowly, “You can’t keep ignoring her.”

“Watch me.”

Those two words cut through Abby’s heart like something she had never imagined. Octavia had always loved her. Abby felt selfish enough to admit that out loud. But Octavia had always favored her opinion, her thoughts, their conversation. Until they disagreed on one of the most monumental decisions in Octavia’s life.

Abby wanted to be okay or even fully understand Octavia’s perspective. But Abby was stubborn in her own right, and she decided to play the life card. The ‘trust me I know better than you’ card.

The mother card.

And she got burned. And that burn wasn’t as simple as a hair straightener to the ear. No, that burn was boiling water being dropped on your naked legs. Then you sued and didn’t win the lawsuit. That was the kind of burn.

The most complicated part was that Abby still believed she was _right_.

So she gripped the knob in her hand, and quietly opened the door. Making her way to the small room next to theirs, where Verena laid asleep.

As Abby gently moved the wisps of hairs away from Verena’s face. She was reminiscent of Clarke. _Why was it different to fight with Clarke than it was Octavia_? Why did Abby fight a stomach ache every time she was reminded that her middle daughter, at the moment, wanted nothing to do with her. Then _that sentence_ shot through her brain, and Abby’s fingers stilled on Verena’s forehead.

The sentence that ended their bickering and began the month-long silence. The sentence that had never been used on Abby in her entire life. The sentence that Abby could not rebuttal. Because, how do you begin to attack the truth?

“Hey sleepy head,” Abby whispered as Verena began to stir, “Octavia’s here.”

Verena rubbed her eyes, turning on her back, “’Tavia’s here?”

Abby lifted Verena up form the bed and onto her hip. Marcus and she didn’t do this often because Nena was getting so big. But Abby needed the protection, she needed a little support from a daughter who still looked at her like she wasn’t a monster. A daughter who looked at her like she _slayed_ the monsters.

“Did she bring me a gift?” Verena murmured into her mother’s neck, still not happy with the bright light of the room.

Abby couldn’t help as a small laugh bubbled up her throat, “I’m sure she did honey.”

Abby clutched Verena to her body almost painfully tight. She expected the young child to wiggle and worm her way down the closer they approached the living space. But as if Verena knew Abby needed her, she hooked one arm around the back of Abby’s neck, and laid her cheek flat against her mothers shoulder. Verena balanced her mothers internal anxiety, with a calmness of the ocean.

On cue, as Abby turned into the living room, Octavia asked, “Where’s the birthday girl?”

Marcus was the first to make eye contact with Abby. His hands on his hips, and a look of worry in the back of his eyes. Abby knew he was afraid the two of them would escalate from silence to shouting match in a matter of seconds. She almost pitied him, but Marcus could handle his own, and quite frankly it’s what he deserved for choosing to be Switzerland in a situation that needed him to be on her side.

They were supposed to be in this together. That’s what he had told her. And when she asked him to agree with her, to back her up, he only did so on some points. It wasn't meant for separation, or even a night on the couch. It just hurt.

She loved him all the same. Obviously. And she had seen the look of anger that flashed across his face when Octavia has said the unimaginable thing. And she remembered the way his own voice reverberated through their home, demanding Octavia apologize. But Octavia wasn’t sixteen anymore, and Abby had fled the scene before either of them could see her hot tears hit the ground.

Abby refused to let that happen now.

“She’s a little groggy. She just woke up from her nap,” Abby explained in a soft tone.

Abby watched as Octavia’s body visibly tensed before her eyes. _Would she decide to not turn around? Really?_

But Octavia did turn around and focused all her attention on her youngest sibling. Verena reached for Octavia, leaving Abby’s arms for a long overdue hug. Abby watched as they started going off a million miles a minute in conversation.

Octavia didn’t take a glance in Abby’s direction.

Abby felt fire run through every nerve in her body. It hurt. Not a piece of her was angry. Just hurt.

“I’ll be outside,” Abby nodded in the direction of the backyard.

Abby put one foot in front of the other trying to stay level-headed. It felt like she was running away. So unlike her, and she wanted to stop fleeing every time Octavia took a small stab at her. But those stupid words banged against the inside of her head every time she wanted to fight, and make Octavia see her way.

Marcus watched as Abby closed the back door behind her.

“That was unnecessary,” he turned to Octavia.

“What was?” she sighed, beginning to form a braid in Verena’s hair. He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Nena, and Octavia knew that.

“You want to prove to her your able to make your own decisions,” Marcus reached for Octavia’s arm, “then act like an adult.”

Octavia looked up at her father defiantly, “I don’t have to prove anything to Abby.”

 

* * *

 

Abby pulled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, pacing the length of the pool. They had four days here. She didn’t want to spend each morning wondering if Octavia would wake up and want to talk. And what if she didn’t? What if these four days were spent in total silence? Would Abby be okay with that?

She heard the back door open and turned to find a new face smiling at her. Clarke walked over to her, throwing her arms around her mom the second she was in distance. Abby let herself indulge in the embrace a few seconds too long, before pulling away.

“Why are you out here alone?” Clarke asked.

“Let’s start with, ‘Hi mom,’” Abby smiled, holding the girls' shoulders in between her hands, “How about that?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Hi mom, why are you outside alone?”

“You know why,” Abby took a seat at the edge of the pool, Clarke following.

A few rustles in the woods filled the silence for a few seconds. Clarke reached over to hold her mom’s hand.

“What happened?” she whispered to Abby, “I mean I know what she decided. But why isn’t she talking to you at all? It’s not like Octavia.”

Abby exhaled, the memory of their fight clear as day in her head. But she didn’t want to paint that picture of Octavia in Clarkes head. Abby knew Clarke would face her head on once she heard. And it wasn’t Clarke’s fight.

“We disagreed,” Abby told her, “and we _still_ disagree. I’ll try to talk to her, I won’t let her continue this silence, okay? It’s just … hard.”

“I know,” Clarke squeezed her mother hand, “and I’ll help.”

Clarke stood up, preparing to walk back inside. But when she noticed Abby wasn’t doing the same she lifted her eyebrow.

“Just give me one more minute,” Abby said quietly, earning a small nod from her oldest daughter. When Clarke was halfway to the backdoor Abby spoke up, “I’m glad you’re here honey.”

Clarke halted and turned to face Abby, “Me too.”

Abby smiled as Clarke disappeared back into the house that was now softly playing music. The day-long party had already started she guessed. But the image of Octavia showing up to their house unannounced last winter couldn’t be shaken from her head.

 

* * *

 

They had just put Verena to bed when the doorbell rang. Marcus asked Abby if she was expecting anyone, already knowing the answer. What Marcus was unprepared to see was Octavia, two large suitcases in tow, and sporting a look that told him she’d been traveling all day.

“Hey dad,” she had smiled, and from behind Marcus, Abby could tell the young girl was nervous.

“Hey,” he grinned with surprise etched on his face. Then, “Get in here,” Marcus had quickly rushed her inside, “it’s freezing.”

Octavia pulled her suitcases up the last steps and walked into the warm home. Abby and Marcus shared concerned looks on their faces because it was dead week. The week before university finals and Octavia was supposed to be across the country. Marcus pulled her into a hug, and then so did Abby, before they collectively made their way to the drawing room.

“I know you’re freaking out,” Octavia mumbled, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck.

They looked at each other and then back to Octavia, “We’re just curious why-”

Abby had started before Octavia said, “Why I’m not over a pile of textbooks in a dorm room the size of our pantry?”

“Yes,” Marcus answered definitely, and Octavia took her large coat off.

They had stood, watching as Octavia took a seat on the hard couch they never really used. Octavia took a deep breath, playing with the end of hair, before pushing it back. In one motion she looked up at her parents and said, “I withdrew from school.”

The color drained from both of their faces at the lightning pace she knew it would. No matter how many times she practiced the strength in her voice on the planes over here, she sounded weak as she tried to explain. She _needed_ to explain before they started yelling. And Octavia knew they would start yelling.

“It’s okay though because-” she began, but she didn’t get far before Abby said in a high pitch, “How is this okay?”

“Start running us through whatever rationalization helped you believe this was a good idea” Marcus grit through his teeth.

“It’s not the right path for me-”

“You’re a junior Octavia,” Abby snapped furiously running her fingers through the top of her head, “you have three more semesters, after this one!”

“ _I know that_ ,” Octavia tried to fight back, “but from my gap year-”

“You mean gap _years_ ,” Abby told her with a sharp stab, “ _two_ ,” shoving the knife in deeper.

“From my gap years!” Octavia corrected herself her voice rising, “I realized I learned enough and I want to try something else. Something that feels right _to me_.”

“What’s your plan?” Marcus stood with his arms crossed, his voice was tight, his eyes sharp on his daughter. Octavia knew that look. It meant he was “assessing” her, and he only used it when he was in business mode. “You know I won’t allow this unless you have a plan.”

“I do have a plan,” she nodded, the stress of the situation getting the best of her.

“No she doesn’t,” Abby’s voice cut through the room, “you can’t have a plan because you’re not allowed to make this decision. You can’t have a plan because you’re twenty-two years old and have changed your major twice.”

“Exactly my point!” Octavia fought back, “The only time I felt like I knew what I wanted was when I was volunteering.”

“I know you did honey,” Abby cut her off, “but that’s not enough to get-”

“ _You did it!_ You hypocrite, you volunteered for your first full-time job!” Octavia shouted.

“I just finished becoming a doctor!” Abby waved her hands wildly in the air, the air in the room becoming hot and tense.

“I don’t understand when Bellamy didn’t know what he wanted to do, you helped him! And I am in the same position-”

“You are not,” Abby kneeled down in front of the girl, trying to make her see what she thought, “Bellamy was choosing between graduate school and applying for the FBI.”

“Dad,” Octavia looked up at her father for help. It felt like her decision was making less and less sense as Abby argued with her.

Marcus ran a hand over his mouth, and down his beard, “What do you plan on doing with the credits you already accumulated?”

“I have enough to graduate with an associate’s,” Octavia stood, and Abby followed.

“In what?” Abby rose her eyebrow.

“Generic studies,” Octavia answered in a clipped tone.

Abby turned to Marcus, “You can’t be serious, she is _not_ coming home.” She turned to Octavia, “You are not coming home,” she pointed at Octavia, “you worked too hard to get into that school being an untraditional freshman.”

“This is my decision!” Octavia yelled.

“It’s _our_ decision,” Abby corrected her fiercely.

“No, it’s not,” Octavia growled, finally having enough of being unheard, “If anything it’s _our_ decision,” she pointed between herself and Marcus, “Because-”

And then Octavia had yelled the unspeakable thing in Abby’s face.

 

* * *

 

Abby felt the pain of that night shoot through her gut. But she took it and stood anyways, making her way back into the cabin.

“You guys forgot to buy packs of romaine for the salad tonight, and we’ll need more strawberries to pair with it,” Clarke told her mom the second she closed the back door.

“Okay,” Abby nodded still a little out of it, “well come with me and we’ll go into town.”

Clarke grimaced, “I’m not feeling well, you should ask Octavia.”

“Clarke,” Abby sighed.

“Marcus is taking care of V,” Clarke closed the fridge, “go ask her or I will.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke did end up asking Octavia and the car ride into town was anything but peaceful. Octavia had stared at her phone, endlessly scrolling, switching between apps seamlessly. Abby tried her best not to pay attention to the four different times she typed messages on her phone. Probably to Lincoln. Abby could only imagine what he was receiving. Somewhere between, “Get me the fuck out of this car,” and, “Kill me now.”

As Abby pulled up to the curb of the main downtown street, Octavia was quick to exit the vehicle. So fast that she forgot her satchel in the foot area of the front seat. Abby sighed, reaching down to grab the worn out leather between her fingers.

Just as Abby rounded the corner to the front of the car, Octavia realized she was missing her purse. Before she could turn to open the door once again, Abby stuck the thing out to her in passing. No words were spoken, as Abby traded the bag into Octavia’s hands, and led the way to the small food market.

Octavia walked a few steps behind Abby, looking into the locally owned boutiques along the way. She passed the shops with all things monogrammable. Uninterested in a quilted wallet, pocket t-shirt, or YETI. What caught her eye was a shop with a wooden sign hanging in front of the door inscribed “arcanus apothetique” in small cursive letters. Inside there were bouquets of lavender and sage, different vivid threads and beads, clear jars of ingredients, and many different stones.

“Hey,” Octavia called out to Abby, who was momentarily surprised to hear Octavia’s voice. Nonetheless, she turned around enough to see Octavia already opening the door to the shop. “I’m going to check this place out. Come get me when you’re done buying twenty dollar berries for your prized child.”

Abby let the small stab slide, deciding entrapping Octavia at a grocery store that was probably smaller than the cabin they were staying in would be torture for the two of them anyway.

“I’ll call you,” Abby nodded, “answer your phone, please.”

For Octavia had not answered any of Abby’s phone calls in four months. But the twenty-two year old nodded her head in agreement and walked inside.

The store was an organized chaos. But Octavia found herself wandering through the loose ribbon hanging from the ceiling, and fingers gracing the different threads, until she stood in front of a wooden table with different stones laid throughout. She graced her hands over the different textures, and picked up three stones. One a dark black, so opaque she could see herself in its reflection. One a brownish orange, with some scratches. One a smooth light pink, surprising herself as she enjoyed its smooth texture against her skin. Overlooking her complete distaste for the color as a whole.

“Interesting combination,” a small voice came from behind her.

Octavia wasn’t a jumpy person, but she gripped the stones against her chest, and hissed, “Don’t you announce yourself?!”

A musical laughter filled the shop, “I’ve been sitting here the whole time. You smiled at me only minutes ago.”

Octavia wracked her brain, trying to remember, then as if a veil was lifted from her clouded thoughts _she did remember_. The woman had been humming as she knotted threads into bracelets. Her thin blue glasses sat on the edge of her nose, with the two ends tied together around the back of her neck, so she could take them off without losing them. Her gray hair was pulled into a bun at the top of her head, with two pencils keeping it together. A shawl the color of gold wrapped around her shoulders. A long gray dress meeting her ankles.

“Right sorry,” Octavia shook her head. Then she lifted the stones up, “How much are these? I didn’t see a price.”

“Oh nothing in here is _really_ priced,” the woman shrugged as she firmly knotted two more threads together, “depends on the person.”

Octavia scoffed, “Isn’t that like … illegal?”

“You walked in with such curiosity,” the woman swiftly changed subjects, “and now I sense … guard?”

“Well curiosity killed the cat.”

“What if we’re talking about Schrodinger's Cat?”

“Listen lady,” Octavia waved her hand in front of her face, “you gonna sell me the stones or not?” Then Octavia leaned over the counter and let the three stones fall.

“Do you have any clue which stones you chose?” The woman sighed, placing the threads and needle beside them. “There’s a sign there for a reason.”

“No there wasn’t,” Octavia inched her head to look back at the table. _Oh, there was a sign_. It had a photo of the stones and a small description underneath. “I just picked them,” Octavia replied, “I didn’t know there was like _a process_.”

“You’re very strong-willed, faithful even, but you lack the ability to listen to others when they don’t agree with you child.”

“Child? I’m 22.”

“From all that. You decided to comment on being called a child?”

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Alright, now I don’t even want your stupid stones.”

Octavia turned to walk away, and halfway through the strings of ribbon, she heard the woman, “You seek forgiveness. You seek the ability to forgive. You seek familial love and understanding.”

The woman paused, thinking, her nails ticking against the glass counter.

“Why do you seek forgiveness when you believe you are not in the wrong?”

Octavia feels her throat close, her eyes shut, but she grits through her teeth, “You got _all that_ from what freaking stones I picked?”

“I’m good with people.”

Octavia inhaled deeply, knowing she’d regret this later. But she turned and approached the counter with the woman sitting calmly behind.

“Prove it,” Octavia challenged.

The woman does not hesitate.

“You picked two quartz. That explains your paradox of wanting forgiveness, but being unable to forgive yourself. You also picked an Obsidian,” the woman’s fingers pull the small rock from the group of others, “which is this dark stone. This helps you face the good, bad, and ugly parts of yourself.”

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” Octavia whispered.

“Exactly,” the woman pushed the stone toward her, “Seek guidance from this stone first. Then you move on to the two quartz.”

Octavia looked down at the black stone, watching as her green irises reflected back at her.

“I would urge you to start with the Rutilated Quartz. It’s this brown and orange one. You hold many frustrations or resentments, and this energy will help you forgive and let go. Then you seek the help of Rose Quartz, which opens your heart to others and yourself.”

“What if this is all a load of shit?” Octavia can’t help but ask.

The woman laughs heartily, “Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy then. You and I don’t have to have the same beliefs. That doesn’t mean I can’t try to _help you_.”

Octavia made a small triangle with the three stones. The Obsidian at the top. She contemplated the thought of Abby hiring this woman. It wouldn’t be an insane thing for Abby to plan, given how much she did miss talking to Octavia. _But I picked these stones_ , Octavia thought. And truthfully Abby didn’t have time for that. She barely had enough time for Marcus, let alone herself.

“So how much for all three?” Octavia lifted her eyebrow.

“No charge,” the woman shook her head side to side, a small smile on her lips.

Octavia opened her mouth to argue, but the woman picked up her hand to stop her, “You’re young. But you shouldn’t waste time fighting with people you love.”

“I don’t want to fight with her, you know?” Octavia sighed, leaning on her elbows, the black stone moving from palm to palm, “But she’s not being fair either.”

“Being a mom is _hard_.”

The stone gently slipped from Octavia’s hand, and before she can lift her eyes to question the woman’s assumption, she hears, “Lucky guess.”

Octavia pressed the stone into the glass with her forefinger, “What if I said something that stripped that from her?”

The woman crossed her legs, “Is being a mother something she is proud of?”

“Aren’t all mothers proud to be mothers?”

“No. They aren’t actually.”

“Well _she is._ It’s like the embodiment of who she is. It has been since the day I met her.”

The woman tried to hide a faint smile, nodding slowly, “So not a biological mother?”

Octavia fiddled with the stone in the pads of her fingers once more, “No.” The word tastes sour as it rolls off her tongue.

“When you get older, you realize that your parents are just people too. They have their own problems. They have their own dreams. They have a sense of humor. They have their own fears. They cry and scream and break down. They are not singular. They are more than just … moms.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Describe your mother to me, without using maternal adjectives.”

Octavia dropped the black stone, warm from her touch, and reached for the cool burnt orange rock.

“She’s smart as hell. She’s talented. She’s brave. She’s stubborn. She’s loyal. She’s strong, but she’s suffered. She always knows the right thing to say. Even though she loves sarcasm. Dad says she has the most emotional intelligence out of anyone on the planet. She knows when things are her fault … and owns up to that.”

“Okay, now tell me titles she holds that aren’t ‘mom’.”

“Doctor. Professor. Boss. Friend. Wife. Woman.” Octavia shifted her focus to the woman, “Human.”

“And how strange that when we get mad and fight with our mothers, we forget that _they are_ and hold so much more behind their thinking than _just that_.”

“That still doesn’t mean she gets to decide what is ‘the right way’ and what is ‘the wrong way’ in my life at twenty-two years old.”

“No, it doesn’t. But maybe now you can see _all the sides_ she is coming from.”

“So you’re saying I need to stop looking at this through ‘my mom sucks because she is acting like a mom’ blinders?”

The woman chuckled, “In layman's terms yes.”

Octavia joined her soft laughter, “Okay, I’m not gonna pay you for these stones. But I am going to pay you for this brief therapy session. So, how much is that bracelet you were making?” Octavia reached into her satchel for her wallet as the woman looked down at the turquoise threaded bracelet.

“These usually come in pairs,” the woman unhooked the finished bracelet from the counter, “I haven’t started the other yet.”

“Well I’m more of a lone-wolf so I’ll take it,” Octavia placed down a twenty dollar bill.

The woman held the bracelet silently in her hands, contemplating the transaction.

“If you don’t want to give me that one, I’ll just go grab a pair then,” Octavia told her nonchalantly, ready to turn on her heels.

But the woman shakes her head, as if the thought had been completed, “No, you wanted this one,” she clasped it on Octavia’s left wrist, “I’m sure it has a match out there somewhere.”

“Oh god,” Octavia’s eyes widen, “don’t tell me I just bought one of those soulmate bracelets.”

The woman gently dabbed the bracelet with some lavender oil, “Hollywood has really changed this notion of soulmate’s.”

“Tell me about it,” Octavia smirked.

“You know that a soulmate doesn’t have to be romantic right?” The woman slipped the twenty back into Octavia’s open wallet without the young lady noticing, as she was too enamored with the bright thread. “These bracelets are based on an old Chinese proverb. The story says there’s an invisible thread that connects two people who are destined to meet and influence each other's lives.”

“Can a person be a soulmate to multiple people?” Octavia whispered.

Before the question is answered, the small jingle of the front door opens, and Abby looked through the sea of hanging ribbons for Octavia. An ambiance of relief spreads when Abby caught sight of Octavia’s short jet black hair. Her eyes settle on the girl, placing her wallet back in her satchel with her stones.

“Hey, you weren’t answering your phone, I was worried,” Abby placed a hand over her heart as if she could finally breathe.

“Sorry, I must have had it on silent,” Octavia apologized, clearing her throat.

She can tell Abby wants to scold her, but instead, she walks over to the counter, “Did you find anything you liked?”

Abby’s eyes drift over all the bright threads in the glass casing.

“These are beautiful,” Abby smiled at the woman, “you are very talented.”

“Thank you,” the woman appreciated her comment, “your daughter has been a great source of conversation for the past few minutes.”

Abby’s eyes fell at the mention of Octavia being her daughter. Not because she doesn’t like it, but because at this moment she believed Octavia didn’t want to be called her daughter. She was quick to catch herself, a tight grin forming on her lips, “I’m sure she has. I’m very lucky.”

Octavia felt a knot in her throat, “Well thank you for the stones,” but as her eyes lifted to meet the woman’s, she knew she was thanking her for so much more than that.

Abby’s eyes looked around in confusion, “Oh, you’re all set then?”

“Yup,” Octavia lifted her lips together in a straight line, “See you around, Clementia.”

With that Octavia, began her way to the front door, Abby on her heels. As Octavia felt the warm air of the outside grace every inch of her skin, she hit a weird realization.

_I never asked for her name. She never told me her name. How did I know that was her name?_

Octavia found herself in the passenger seat of her parents' car, the desire to type the woman’s name into Google. But why would she start looking for rationality now? Instead, she took a deep breath and turned to Abby the moment the older woman slid in the drivers seat.

“I’m sorry that I said you weren’t my mother.”

They both heard Abby inhale a sharp breath. She dropped the car keys before they have the chance to grace the ignition starter. Her door was not even closed yet. Abby turned to Octavia, who immediately looked away and out the window when their eyes meet.

“Don’t say anything,” Octavia murmured, “I’m not sure of much else yet. I just know that I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry, and I knew it would hurt you.”

Abby’s fingers twitched. They ached to reach out and console Octavia, but she was not sure it would help. Abby was not sure of a lot dealing with Octavia lately. She used to think she knew her so well, and it was very likely she still did, but Abby felt incredibly out of tune with the young lady.

“Dad hasn’t let me forget it for the past four months, in case you were wondering. In case you felt like he wasn’t fighting for your side.”

Abby sat back against the seat, and shut the door, enclosing them in the silence.

“But that’s not why I’m apologizing,” Octavia mirrored Abby, feeling her back hit the smooth hard leather of her seat.

Both women crossed their arms in front of their stomach. They faced forward and watched a mix of tourists and locals roam the main street.

“I’m apologizing because I remembered the night I ran away to your house and how you cried when you thought no one would find you. After you talked to my dad on the phone … ”

Abby didn’t feel the pain in her bottom lip until she tasted the copper of blood in her mouth. Her teeth had pierced through the thin skin, as she failed to keep her jaw from shaking. The memory clear in her mind.

“Dad said you did the same when we fought that night.”

The air felt heavy and Abby regretted closing the door. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and hurt. How could Marcus share her level of distraught after Octavia had screamed those words only centimeters from her face?

It’s then that she heard Octavia inhale a hiccupy breath. She was crying.

“And I remember thinking … _good_.”

Octavia covered her mouth as a sob escaped, and Abby felt her arms curl around herself tighter. The salted taste of rolling tears finding their way onto her own tongue.

“I wanted you to hurt. I wanted to prove that I had some power over you. Because that’s what it felt like when you argued with me.”

Octavia paused and picked up her legs to hold her knees against her chest.

“It felt like I wasn’t smart enough to make my own decisions. It felt like you didn’t trust me. It felt like you didn’t know me at all. _You made me feel small._ ”

Abby can’t help as she covered her mouth with both her palms, shutting her eyes painfully as they burned with hot tears.

“But that’s how I remembered you. That night … with your face in-between your knees. You looked small.”

Octavia created crescents on her skin with the edge of her fingernails.

“I remembered being shocked to find you like that because I had never seen you as anything but _strong_. In my story, you’ve always been a warrior Abby. Bellamy’s my big brother. Dad’s the voice in my head. Clarke’s the twin sister I never wanted. Verena’s my Robin.”

Abby couldn’t help but smile at Verena being labeled Octavia’s sidekick.

“But you’re the unsung hero.”

Octavia let the words hang in the air.

“And at that moment I saw my dad as the monster. Because he alone, that night, made you small. And how do we have the power to do that to each other? But I know that my dad never wanted to be the monster in your story. He never sought out to hurt you. _But I did_. And what does that say about me?”

“Stop,” Abby grit out, surprising Octavia, “honey, please.”

“No wait,” Octavia shook her head and placed it between her knees, “Warrior’s break. Hero’s cry. Mom’s can be small. But I don’t want to be the monster that made you question whether or not I love you.”

“Octavia, babe, listen to me,” Abby reached her arm over Octavia’s shaking shoulders, “We all have the ability to be monsters. And we all in our life will be labeled a monster in someone else’s eyes. The severity differs of course. But I am sure that night, in that moment, I was the monster in your story.”

Abby wrapped both arms around the ball her daughter has curled herself into.

“But I’m gonna tell you the difference between a monster and the devil. Monsters can make up for the fact that they made someone small. Monsters can seek forgiveness. Monsters can acknowledge their part in the destruction. Monsters can care if they love and are loved. The devil, can’t.”

Abby hugged the girl as tight as she could, her muscles aching from the stress.

“I have loved you since the day I met you, and nothing you _ever_ tell me will change that.”

She felt Octavia’s breath begin to calm, “And yes, you’re right. I did make you feel all those _terrible_ things. And I’m sure your father knew, and I’m more certain now that _that’s_ why he’s been playing Switzerland to the both of us.”

Abby began to gently run her fingers through Octavia’s hair, “So believe it or not, I do trust you with your life. But you’re still _my daughter_ , and you’ve got to let me freak the fuck out when you make a decision of that degree. One of which doesn’t align with what I did, what your father did, what Clarke did, what Bellamy did-.”

Octavia gently lifted her head and wiped her dried tears with the back of her hand.

“I know,” Octavia cut her off gently, “I know.”

“I don’t want to ever put you in these positions Octavia. But that doesn’t mean I will pretend to agree with you when I don’t. Next time, I will try harder to meet you halfway,” Abby kissed the side of her head.

“Next time, I will try to listen better. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I missed you,” Octavia turned to her, “life really sucked when I couldn’t call you. You wouldn’t believe the four months I’ve had.”

Abby lifted her hand to grace Octavia’s cheek, “I’ve missed you too and I want to hear all about it.”

“Tonight,” Octavia nodded once, “after we eat cake.”

“Oh god I can’t wait to eat that cake,” Abby let her jaw fall, then she moved to grab the keys that had fallen and started the car, “it’s been tempting me since the day we left.”

As she pulled away from the curb, Octavia laughed, “How relieved do you think dad’s face will be when he sees we’ve made up?”

Abby snorts, “Oh god, he’s been on edge for months. He’ll probably faint from exhaustion at putting up with us.”

“And Clarke,” Octavia ticked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, “that sneaky kid. She’ll be way too proud of herself for sending us on this excursion together.”

Abby smiled and turned onto the main road en route back to the cabin, “I’m going to ask before we completely leave downtown. Did you bring Verena a gift? I didn’t see a bag and she asked this morning …”

“Dad didn’t tell you? That’s why Bell is getting here late. We all pitched in for one gift, and he’s picking it up.”

“If you guys bought her a motorized scooter or some crazy skateboard I will toss that thing off the side of the hill myself. She’s _too young_ -”

“Don’t worry it’s dad approved,” Octavia stopped her, “which means it’s you approved, okay?”

Abby looked at Octavia through her peripherals, skeptical, “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled up to the gravel driveway in the next thirty minutes. Octavia followed Abby into the rental house with grocery bags hanging from their hands. The bright sun shined on her new bracelet, and it felt so odd that only a few hours ago she was in a huge fight with her mother.

When Octavia’s eyes lifted to Abby, something caught her eye almost immediately.

On Abby’s right ankle was a threaded turquoise bracelet, identical to the one she had just purchased in town. How could Octavia have forgotten? She bought Abby that bracelet almost six years ago. How blind had she been in her rage with Abby that she didn’t notice this?

 _You know that a soulmate doesn’t have to be romantic right?_ The shop woman’s voice echoed in her head.

Octavia ran up behind Abby and dropped the grocery bags at her feet. Without one more thought, she threw her arms around Abby’s shoulders and pulled her back against her chest. Abby froze momentarily, thrown off her balance, and then she leaned back into Octavia’s embrace.

“I love you,” Octavia told her.

“I love you too,” Abby responded softly.

They walked into the cabin after that and worked together to unbag all the items in the kitchen. Clarke knew immediately that her plan had worked and Bellamy owed her a twenty dollar bill when he arrived later. Marcus walked into the cabin in swim trunks and an inflatable swan pool float in his hands. On his trail was Verena with floaties and goggles on.

“Dad broke my bird!” she whined sniffling. Her cheeks were rosy and tears clumped her eyes.

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh, then she walked over and picked up Verena, “He broke your bird?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, a firm pout on her lips.

“No I just haven’t blown it up yet,” Marcus told everybody.

“You’re gonna blow up my bird?!?” Verena cried.

“No Nena,” Marcus huffed, “Help, please? Anyone?”

Abby stepped in then, “Honey, daddy means he needs to put air in your pool float so you can use it.”

“C’mon let’s go back in the pool,” Clarke started walking outside with Verena, grabbing a pool noodle on her way, “you can’t cry on your birthday it’s against the rules.”

It left Octavia, Abby, and Marcus alone in the cabin.

“I’m not sure I bought a pump. If I have to blow this up with the air from my lungs, we will be here until the next millennium,” Marcus let the deflated swan fall on top of the kitchen table.

“Don’t worry,” Abby told him and reached into one of the bags, “I figured and saw this at the market.” She pulled out a mini air pump, specifically for swimming floaties.

“I love you,” Marcus told her without missing a beat.

“She’s getting a lot of that today,” Octavia smirked interjecting, “from everybody.”

Marcus leaned against one of the kitchen chairs, “Is that so?”

“Yup,” Octavia nodded as she put some ice cream away in the fridge, “every male and female in town was hitting on your woman. I think she got asked to go on a hayride by the owner of the local tool shop. The lady who owned the flower shop offered to marry her and run away to Europe. She almost eloped dad, if I wasn’t there who knows what would have happened?”

“I take it back I have not missed you at all,” Marcus rolled his eyes.

Abby snickered, “I have.”

Marcus watched as Abby passed groceries to Octavia, and they worked together to place them in their respective places in the kitchen.

“So,” Marcus said elongating the ‘o’, “you too seem-”

“We’re good dad,” Octavia smiled at him, “don’t make it weird.”

“Abby?” Marcus raised his eyebrow for confirmation.

“She’s telling the truth, we worked it out-”

Before Abby could finish, Marcus joined both women in the kitchen and grabbed them both in his arms, “ _Thank god!_ ”

“This is exactly what I meant by making it weird,” Octavia grumbled.

 

* * *

 

They all spent the rest of the afternoon by the pool. Yes, with the swan fully inflated and Verena naming herself an official swan trainer. When they finally exited the pool for birthday cake, they heard the gate to the backyard open.

“Bellamy!” Verena sprinted to him.

“Happy Birthday Nena,” he lifted her up to hug him, “I missed you so much, you’re getting so big.”

He gently placed her back down and went around greeting everyone with a hug. He slapped a twenty in Clarkes hand the moment she stuck it out to him. Octavia expressed that she couldn’t believe they bet on her and Abby making up in town.

“Awesome, I made it just in time for cake,” Bellamy exclaimed, “but I think I’m going to have to give you your birthday present first.”

Verena nodded her head in excitement, and Bellamy disappeared behind the gate he had just entered through. Abby reached for Marcus’s hand and whispered, “I swear if it is anything remotely motorized.”

“It’s not,” he answered, “and it’s for you too.”

Abby looked up at him with a confused expression, “What?”

Then she heard it. A small squeaky bark. Bellamy had returned with a golden pup in his arms.

“A puppy!” Verena squealed and ran to him, as he knelt down to let her get a closer look.

“Marcus,” Abby murmured gently, remembering Wilson and all the joy he brought.

“It was the kids' idea,” he told her, lifting their connected hands to kiss her knuckles, “and it was time.” He nudged his wife forward, “Go help her name him before he gets called something ridiculous.” But before she stepped towards the small puppy, she reached on her toes and left a brief kiss on his lips.

Bellamy let the puppy down onto the floor and reminded Verena to be gentle.

“What do you think Abby?” Bellamy smiled at her, as she joined them kneeling on the floor.

Abby reached out and placed her hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, a silent thank you. Then she let her fingers graze over the golden retriever’s soft coat of fur. It stared up at her with deep brown eyes. He was a calm puppy.

“Hey there mister,” Abby smiled.

Verena was so amazed by the animal in front of her, “Can we keep him, mommy? Can we keep Mister?”

Abby looked up when Bellamy chuckled, “Mister, who would have thought of that?”

“Mommy did,” Verena narrowed her eyes at Bellamy, “it’s his name now.”

“Yes,” Abby answered her initial question as she helped Verena put the puppy carefully in her lap, “we can keep Mister.”

“Best birthday ever!” Verena laughed, leaning down to hug their new puppy. Abby found Marcus’s eyes across the small backyard. Those were exactly the words that allowed his own forgiveness.

 

* * *

 

The next day, the smooth sound of the bow against the strings of a cello had Abby clutching onto her husbands neck as they slowly swayed from foot to foot. The sharp but soothing notes of the piano keys had Marcus mimicking the sheet music with his fingers on his wives waist. The mix of the violinist, guitarist, and drummer so calmly jamming out had their six-year-old daughter dancing wildly in front of the band. Their three older children sat around a patio table, more enamored with the puppy today then they had been last night. Last night, Mister belonged to Verena and Abby alone.

The spring weather crept in with gusts of warm wind that traveled through the trees and ruffled the fabric of Abby’s beige maxi skirt. Nena loved tracing the white embroidered flowers along the hems, often pulling at some of the threads that had undone with time. Nena liked pulling at a lot of Abby’s clothes come to think of it. Especially the shirt Abby was wearing now, a denim blue short sleeved button up, with loose ends down the middle that tied into a small knot. Whether it was a fluffy stuffed animal, a real animal, or ice cream — Nena was always pulling Abby somewhere.

Marcus accidentally stubbed Abby’s toe, and she tried not to stifle her laugh because they were barely moving.

Dancing had never been one of Marcus’s strong suits. He wasn’t _terrible_ , they had learned that on one of their first dates. However, as they both looked over at Verena twirling with her arms open, as if she was absorbing all the energy of the environment, with a wide smile and closed eyes, that at that moment she was more like Abby than him in this category.

“She’s got the spirit of a million suns that one,” the guitarist told them when they took a short break.

“Don’t lose it,” he knelt down in front of Nena, his hazel eyes staring into her wide chestnut orbs,

“not many people know how to channel those emotions.”

“She’s six,” Marcus whispered into Abby’s ear. Before he could add anything, Abby slapped him in the gut with the back of her hand, a smile never leaving her face.

“What do we say Nena?” Abby asked her, keeping her fingers lightly on the top of her daughters head. Nena pushed back against her mothers legs, leaning into her for support.

“Thank you! Gracias! Merci! Grazie!” Verena replied proudly, but still clutching one small hand around her mothers right calf.

The guitarist couldn’t help as his eyes went wide in disbelief. He didn’t say anything, just chuckled, tapped her nose one last time, and disappeared into the restaurant.

Verena watched as the cellist followed, his bow almost the size of her. With wide eyes, she followed it until he too was gone.

Then she turned to her parents, “Was that a scalpel?!”

Abby’s eyes widened, “A what?”

“Of course,” Marcus groaned, his head falling into the palm of his hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I sincerely, hope you liked it. A thank you to convenientmisfires for some beta help! (I hope I used that right.)
> 
> If you would like, let me know your thoughts and comments below. As always, I'm so appreciative for your kudos and eyeballs! Stay golden, kabby fam.


End file.
